A Dangerous Game For Love
by sheerio4ever
Summary: Ian has had a bad life. The only one who gives him a smile, doesn't look at him in disgust or pity, who greets him when they walk past each other was kidnapped by the gang that has haunted him and Kyle since forever. When Ian decides to play a dangerous game of Russian Roulette to save her, what will happen?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Host. **

**A/N: I hope that you all like this story. It's a little violent but not greatly graphic. Thanks for reading. **

As he looked at the almost lifeless body on the table, he began to relent on his first decision. The blonde girl whose body had been carelessly thrown upon the table and bound to it by thick, heavy ropes. When he said that she was blonde in was really just a guess; her hair was a matted and dirty. Her skin was filthy too - it looked as if she hadn't seen soap in quite a while, did these men have no respect for her? When he had first entered the dirty, humid, dank room he had thought she was dead. To be honest, he still would if it weren't for the miraculous slow rise and fall of her tiny chest.

He could only imagine what they had done to her and even that was vile. He could practically hear her shrill, timid screams right now... The ghost of her screams. He shivered in the warm room.

"Well O' Shea, what is your final answer?" The man who spoke had an evil glint in his eye. He was the ringleader of this sick organization although you wouldn't have guessed it - he looked nothing like his stereotypical character. His lacky, on the other hand, looked exactly like the stereotypical villain. He was lacking in the brains department but had a good swing with the hammer - Kyle would know.

Ian actually couldn't remember how he and Kyle had gotten involved with this mess, but apparently it had something to do with his now deceased parents and some debt. Of course, the debt had been paid a long time ago, yet he was still here, trying to save a girl that he hardly knew - but was the cost too great?

"Come on O' Shea, we don't have all day." The leader, also named Keith, said impatiently. "Will you attempt to save the girl or not?"

The prices you ask? Either walk away and leave the small, defenseless girl to die or play a dangerous game of Russian Roulette.

The only thing that even slightly tempted him was the fact that Keith was a man of his word. He may not be fair, kind or generous but he always kept his word.

"I'll save her."

. . .

"Okay O' Shea, you know how this game works?" Keith's malicious voice ripped me unwillingly from my thoughts and plans.

I shivered in the humid, stale air. This was stupid, risky and arrogant. If Kyle ever found out he would murder me, he would never look me in the eye again, he would hate me and think of me as an insensitive little prick who was ungrateful for all the things that he had sacrificed.

Kyle wouldn't understand. Kyle didn't know that Ian had a feeling that this girl was worth saving. Kyle didn't feel that spark that Ian had felt that one night. Kyle didn't feel sympathetic for others that were less fortunate than them, partially because they understand what it was like living a low life that really couldn't sink any lower. The life of debt, crime, drugs, threats, blackmails and broken bones.

"Yes." I looked up reluctantly. "I do."

There was two wooden chairs placed either side of a wooden table. A gun and a single, but deadly, bullet rested on the table, harmless for now. One chair was for me, the other was for one of Keith's various sidekicks that were stupid enough to risk their lives in a stupid game for someone that they barely knew... but then again, wasn't I?

I pushed myself up off the wall with a deep breath to still my shaking body - it would be no good to break my calm mask and let them know my real, inner feelings.

I dragged the chair out across the flagstone floor that had previously echoed my heavy footsteps. The high pitched squealing, scratching noise was enough to make me wince in pain, as the noise reverberated through my ears and into my brain. Not that it mattered, chances were that my brain would be blown to bits in a matter of minutes. I hope it would be painless. Ha, painless, yeah right... of course it was going to be painful to shoot yourself in the head, even if you do die instantly. Those thoughts alone were enough to make my throat tight.

I didn't want to die. I didn't. I thought I did, but that was a long time ago - it had been ages since I had felt the urge to jump from a high surface or feel blood running down my wrists.

Then I began to think. If I died, Keith could easily make my death look like a suicide attempt - he knew my history. Then Kyle would beat himself up because he would feel that he did not do a good enough job in making sure that I was mentally well and truly over my 'troubles', has everyone seemed to refer them to. Either way Kyle was a major factor in this and he was going to hate me whether I live or die... unless I backed out.

But as an image of that girl flashed through my mind, I knew that there was no way I was backing out. This girl, she was the only one who would smile at me in the hallways and in the cafeteria. She would sit beside me quietly in assembly without giving me a look of pity or disgust. She would murmur a hello if we passed in the street. And even though the only words we had ever exchanged were those small hellos, she seemed to be always there in the back of my mind, reassuring me without words and steadying me without touch. Yes, there was something about her, something about her that my instincts told me to save. And if there was one thing that helped me most in my whole life, it was my instincts.

"Who's going first?" I was surprised at how calm my voice was. I was even more surprised at how I said them. Casually. Like I did this every day for fun.

"You might as well O' Shea." Keith smirked menacingly as he handed me the loaded gun. Funny, I hadn't seen him take it which meant that I didn't see him put in the bullet. The suspicious side of my brain was alerted.

"I'd really rather not." I said, eyeing him.

"Why not O' Shea?" His eyes narrowed. "You too chicken?"

"No." I snapped defensively. "I just feel that, since you are the host and all, that your friend here may as well go first." I hoped to God that he didn't know anything about manners and the fact that the guest was always supposed to go first. He was still eyeing me up, so I added: "Unless you have something to hide."

Keith may be a man who kept his promises but that didn't mean that he played fair. In fact, he may just be the dirtiest player in the history of the gangs in New York. The top ten at the very least.

Keith's lips twisted into a sick smirk at that comment.

"Really O' Shea? Where would my manners be in that?" Okay, so that ruled out that tactic. Apparently his mother did attempt to teach him manners. He chose to ignore my last bit though.

"Oh I don't mind." I gave him my best smile. "But if you are really, really insistent I supposed we could flip a coin."

Keith's eyebrows shot up a bit at that. I could almost hear what he was thinking: so this kid thinks that he can outsmart me eh?

"Okay." He agreed slowly. "You got a coin?" But of course he accepted. He was Keith Barrett - he never rejected a challenge. I pulled a coin out of my pocket effortlessly.

"A coin from Europe? How fancy." He sneered. My heart stopped. That coin was the last thing I had of my father. He had been Irish before he moved to Europe.

"Give it back." My voice was made of steel and not thick with emotion like it normally would have when the coin was in subject.

"No can do kiddo, now I'll let you have first pick. Head or tails?" There was a satisfied tone in his voice. Of course there was. I blinked hard to prevent tears from dripping from my eyes to my face. It would do absolutely no good to cry in front of Keith.

"Heads." I turned away as Keith flipped the coin high in the air. I only turned as I heard the coin drop onto the table. I ripped my eyes off the wall and said a silent prayer to God.

And on the table lay the coin and the side facing up was... tails.

"Okay O' Shea, your first."

"No, wait." I stopped him.

"What now?" He growled, beginning to lose patience.

"If you had caught it in your hand you would have had to flip it over. So..." I leaned across the table and turned the coin over."John doe over there goes first."

The silence was almost overwhelming.

"Very well." Keith spoke quietly. Dangerously. Evilly. He handed the gun over to the man at the other side of the table. He gulped. There was a reason I was supposed to go first.

"Boss..."

"Quit your whining Morrissey, you volunteered so you will do the job." Keith growled in distaste.

I watched as Morrissey got ready to fire the gun. All I could think was: It would be me in that position if I hadn't been so lucky.

He spun the barrel gingerly. When it clicked he held the gun to his head.

I couldn't help but think that if I were in his position, I would turn the gun and shoot Keith as revenge.

He put his finger to the trigger. Pressed it down and... I looked away as I heard the bang. Instead I looked up at Keith.

"I won. I want the girl now." Keith glared at me.

"Have her, you nasty piece of shit. And don't you ever come near me again or I will not hesitate to kill you. Same goes for her." He spat.

He went into the back room and cut her ropes. He swung her over his shoulder and placed her in my arms.

"Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind O' Shea." As I began to walk away, I heard her moan quietly. Of course. She was in pain.

"Don't worry," I whispered. "You're going to be alright. I'll make sure of it."

**A/N: This is NOT the end. I promise. Updates may be slow though. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Host. **

**A/N: Thanks for all of your beautiful reviews :) **

When Ian arrived home there was nobody there, thankfully. He shifted Wanda gently as he closed the door and locked it. Obviously he wasn't gently enough as she left out a soft moan. That wasn't a good sign. He didn't know the extents of her injuries but it seemed pretty bad so far. What if he had to take her to a hospital? What would he do? How would he come up with a story that seemed believable? He couldn't exactly barge in and go: 'Oh, how did this happen? Well, it's not too bad, it just happened that a gang kidnapped her and I saved her by outsmarting the leader at Russian Roulette, you know?' He wondered how many people would believe him. He wondered how many people would vote to put him into a mental institute.

He walked into the small, cramped room that Kyle and he referred to as their sitting room. He tried to make his steps as smooth as possible but it didn't really help much. He set her down on the couch as carefully as he could. She was just small enough to lie down on it, with her legs slightly bent. Her size compared to the couch made her look even more vulnerable and breakable.

"I'll be back in a minute." He whispered softly, not sure if she could hear him. She just left out a groan of pain. Her eyes stayed closed, she hadn't opened them the whole way to the house. He couldn't blame her though, he had taken the back, hidden streets - if you could even call them streets - to avoid being seen. Not that he was guilty of anything but if you got caught carrying a beaten up, small girl's body that had probably been reported missing you wouldn't exactly look innocent.

He ran down the hall into the bathroom and turned on the water heater. He would try and clean her up to see what blood was from a cut and what blood was just a smeared stain. He didn't turn the tap on to fill the bath just quite yet, it took absolutely forever for the bloody thing to heat up properly - an hour at least.

He walked slowly back to the sitting room, examining the old, cracked walls of his house... his home. There used to be pictures all over the walls courtesy of his mom, but as soon as she died and his relatives stopped caring, Kyle took all of the memories down. The memory of that day was still so fresh in his mind...

A ten year old Ian looked up and met the eyes of an angry fifteen year old Kyle. Normally he would have said it was completely normal - Kyle was a parents worse nightmare when he hit puberty. Anger was a frequent emotion for him - it seemed that it was the only emotion he was capable until that day, the day it all fell apart. This anger was a different kind of anger, this anger made tears well up in Kyle's eyes. The first time Ian had seen Kyle close to crying in years. Ian didn't say a word that day. Thinking back, Ian thought that maybe he should have, but he could go back and change the past. Kyle had stalked past Ian and locked himself into his bedroom. That was also the night that Ian tried to cook food for the first time. It was that night that Ian had first burnt himself, and he had cried out for his mother in pain. That was the night Kyle became like a parent figure to Ian as well as a brother. Kyle had rushed out of his bedroom and picked Ian off the ground where he lay clutching his hand in agony, crying. Kyle didn't say a word about how big boys didn't cry, he just guided Ian to the tap and pushed his hand under the cold water. He put some of the cream that his mother had kept up in the medicine cabinet and a white bandage. Then he led Ian to the dinner table, with a box of markers, and helped him decorate the bandage. All without a word.

Later that night, when Ian was supposed to be asleep, Kyle had crept out of his room. Ian heard him and followed him, standing outside the door of his bedroom, just barely hidden out of sight. He watched silently as Kyle ripped down every single one of those photographs and with angry roars mixed with heart wrenching sobs tore every single one of those photos into tiny, little shreds on the floor. When Kyle had finished he took a deep breath and turned around only to spot Ian outside the door. "Go to bed." He had told him shortly and walked back into his own bedroom. That was the only night that Kyle had ever shown his feelings in any way other than drink himself stupid.

As Ian released himself from the scarring memory and sank down onto the floor, his back resting against the wall. He felt hopeless, he felt like a traitor, he felt all that depression sink back into his bones, he felt the urge to cry, he felt the urge to scream, he felt the urge to cut... Instead he just put his head in his hands and tried to resist the urge to fall back onto the endless despair that he had previously lost himself in.

. . .

Somewhere along all the condemning feelings that he had been battling with, Ian had fallen asleep. He didn't know how long for but in that moment it didn't matter - he had heard a scream.

He jumped up straight away and ran into the sitting room where he had left Wanda. There, a few feet away from the couch, stood Jodi, Kyle's girlfriend, who looked absolutely horrified. Damn! Ian thought. He had forgotten that she was coming over today.

"Ian Patrick O' Shea!" she shrieked. "Would you care to tell me why the hell there is a tramp lying on the couch!"

"Jodi," Ian gulped, she had the capability to be as terrified as Kyle. "I can, uh, explain everything."

"Oh you better be able to." She growled, glaring at him. "Now start explaining."

"Keith Barrett kidnapped her." That was mistake number one.

"Excuse me?" She snapped, shocked that I would bring him up.

"Umm... I went to see if I could talk him into letting her go." That was mistake number two.

"What?" Jodi was feeling more sick as every moment passed by. "What did you do Ian?" She whispered desperately.

"I - I played Russian Roulette and won." Ian whispered guiltily. Mistake number three. Jodi slapped him hard across the cheek.

"How could you Ian? After all that Kyle has done to keep you away from shit like that!" Jodi was still whispering but her blood was boiling and she felt dizzy like she was about to faint.

"I need you to help me Jodi," Ian pleaded. "She's injured."

"Why should I help Ian? After everything! You met with him and you played Russian Roulette!" Jodi's voice rose until she was screeching at him.

Then the door behind them opened and Kyle stepped into the room.

"Who's played Russian Roulette?"

Oh no.


End file.
